Juniper
by The Eye of the Crow
Summary: No one should commit suicide on Christmas Eve! Hermione must stop Severus Snape at all costs. Only, she forgot the rule n. 1: gather all facts before jumping at a conclusion… Slightly AU.


**Juniper**

* * *

**Pairing: **hints of SS/HG

**Rating:** PG

**Warnings:** None. Just a little bit of Christmas crack.

**Word count**: 2934

**Summary:** No one should commit suicide on Christmas Eve! Hermione must stop Severus Snape at all costs. Only, she forgot the rule n. 1: gather all facts before jumping at a conclusion… AU.

**Disclaimer:** HP is not mine. I am a proud owner of a Severus plushie, though. He personally approved of this story.

**Note:** zaboraviti made a wonderful Russian translation for this story. I've put the link on my profile, as this lovely site won't let me do it here.

* * *

It was the longest November anyone could remember. The trees had lost their leaves and the only thing left was the naked grayness, penetrating chill and disappointment caused by the kitschy Christmas decorations. For some strange reason, the theme color of this Christmas seemed to be alien purple. It was the 23th of December.

Hermione looked around her Christmas tree stall. Almost everything was sold now; her feet were sore after spending the whole day on them and she couldn't fathom why she had let her friend persuade her to come here in her stead. _Sick she said, but that coughing of hers sounded quite fake. Why do I always have to be so bloody nice? _

A customer went to her stall. It was a tall man clad in black.

Hermione lifted her gaze to see his face and gasped. It was professor – no, the proper term now was the former professor – Snape.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him, bewildered.

"Good afternoon," he replied and cast an indifferent look on the remaining firs and spruces. Then something caught his attention. It was a few branches with little black balls.

"What's that doing here? Do you even know what that is?" he asked with a slight hint of contempt.

Hermione really wanted to answer back, but then she felt a horror, as she realized that she was far too exhausted after all day toiling to remember the name of that stupid conifer.

In the end she just mumbled:

"I'm sorry, I forgot. But for two pounds twenty it's yours anyway."

"Juniper. Juniperus communis, genus Pinales, family Cupressaceae. It's used for rheum-curing potions and for various kinds of liquors. But – why I am talking about this – there are some nations that seem to practice a certain interesting barbaric custom. During the celebration of Easter, they use juniper branches to… how should I put it…" Severus Snape paused for a second, brushing his thumb against the green needles, "…punish their naughty women."

Hermione swallowed.

Snape bored his gaze into her face in an unsettling, burning manner for a little longer.

"See you around," he said to her with a casual parting gesture and took his leave. It took her some time to realize that she could probably shut her mouth and stop staring at the direction he went off.

…

Hermione entered the small stationery shop immersed in deep thoughts. She absentmindedly gathered some bright colored paper wraps and took her place in the line. _What the hell was THAT?! _Something terrible must have happened to Snape that had made him act so out of character. _See you around? And those…innuendos… _

She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks when she memorized the timbre of the voice he used when he told her about that barbaric custom and the way his long, slender fingers firmly, perhaps almost possessively grasped one of those soft black balls.

She shook her head to get rid of this unwelcome train of thoughts. This was beside the point, which was – as she had to remind herself – that something definitely _did_ happen to Snape.

She pondered over the facts she knew about his life. He had his share of hardships during the war, was sentenced for treason and then reluctantly rehabilitated. He never returned to Hogwarts and instead went to live in his house, which, as far as she remembered, was a dilapidated den in suburbs. And it was located some three blocks from here.

She was now almost reaching the counter. A man in a beige overcoat wished Merry Christmas to a forty something shop lady with dyed blond hair and left, clutching a set of expensive looking cosmetics products wrapped in golden cellophane under his arm. Now it was a turn of someone who stood in front of approximately six hundred pounds of flesh and fat, shaped in a form of woman who Hermione immediately nicknamed after a character in her favorite childhood book – Giantess Gertrude.

She only hoped that this lovely creature, who was holding an incredible amount of various goods in her balloon-shaped arms, wouldn't panic at the sight of the bill and back up right into Hermione's face.

Hermione knew nothing of Snape's personal life, but she was sure that if he possessed one to begin with, the gossip would spread with a speed of light.

_So he is probably spending this grim November Christmas alone. It's kind of sad, but he must be used to it by now._

This was a moment when a man voice reached her ears. It was the second time that day when she recognized the soft baritone belonging to Severus Snape.

"The time has come. I'll do it tomorrow."

"Considering what you've just told me…" the shop assistant replied, sounding slightly concerned, "you know, there are other ways, like-"

But Hermione never got the chance to hear the rest of the sentence, because Giantess Gertrude chose this particular moment to interrupt:

"Oh my gosh, I've been stuck here for hours and I've left my stove on!"

Hermione only heard her former Potions professor's reply:

"No. My resolution is irreversible."

Few seconds later Hermione saw him leaving with his shopping. It consisted of a single item. A rope.

* * *

It was pleasantly warm in the bus. Hermione's eyelids were getting heavy. She squinted at her fellow passengers, three elderly ladies with lots of bags and packages and two teenagers, playing some crappy music on a cell phone.

She yawned. _If anyone feels offended when I take a nap here in the back, it's their problem, _she thought and in the next moment she was already dozing off with her back stretched over three seats. She only had to get off at the terminus, so what.

She dreamt that it was Christmas Eve already and she didn't make it on time, she was terribly late and the only thing she saw was just a toppled-over stool and pair of shoes, swinging to the melody of _Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells…_ Then there was a flash and she found herself sitting at her kitchen table, eating one banana after another, until she was fat like the Giantess Gertrude and couldn't even stand up, flash, a tiny reindeer told her she was somebody's Christmas present and was obliged to get into Santa's bag and she argued that she had been a very good girl this year and besides, the bag was a way to little for her to fit in it, flash, and finally she had a very sensual dream experience, starring Severus Snape, a juniper and a certain barbaric custom.

All of that happened between the four stops on the way from Howard's Hospital to Spinner's End.

"Terminus; please, leave the bus," a recorded voice announced just after Hermione had awaken, her cheeks now a little bit rosy.

She obeyed the voice and descended. She shivered when she felt the cold wind and longingly looked back for the warm bus that had just went around the turntable and the inviting yellow rectangles of its windows disappeared in the dark.

The only remaining light now was that of a street lamp, dim and cold, offering the glance at the rather unseemly surroundings. The bleakness of the endless row of dilapidated back-to-back houses built during the long-gone era of industrial boom was only now and then interrupted by a shimmering blue light of a TV screen, which let the usual amount of Christmas sentiment into the lives of the tenants – the amount for which they were probably indebted to the town council.

The houses were surrounded by overstuffed dustbins and empty bottles. There was a single crooked tree in the whole street.

Hermione produced a piece of paper from her pocket and read the address, which she had copied from the urgent owl from Remus. 234/B. _Hmm_. She walked past the row of identical brick buildings. She hoped that she would find the right number soon. There was not a single soul around, but she was afraid that if someone showed up they wouldn't have exactly good intentions. And if that happened, she'd have to resort to using magic as her defense. That would mean troubles at the Ministry whose view on the using magic against the muggles had become even stricter after the war.

Luckily for her she finally found the right house. It was the one with the tree.

_So the easy part's over_, Hermione sighed. Here came the catch in her otherwise smoothly running plan – what was she supposed to do now?

The lights in the house were off; Snape had yet to return. She could: a) wait for him and give him her presents in person, b) break into the house that was without a doubt guarded by the nastiest anti-burglar protection spells imaginable.

_It is enough that he wants to commit suicide, I'm not planning to join him, so let it be a)_. She hesitantly stood there for about ten minutes, thinking. She just couldn't come to terms with the fact that someone who used to be a part of her life – well, maybe not in the quite pleasant way, but still – decided to take his own life right on the Christmas Eve. She had to try to stop him, at least.

That was the reason for her standing there, with a box full of homemade Christmas cookies and a present she got in a hurry, and that bunch of juniper brunches on which he had laid his hands before. She tried to figure out what she'd tell him.

_Please don't kill yourself, it would ruin my Christmas, and yours as well. _Hermione fought the desire to bump her head into the wall. She had never been a rhetorical genius but this would be too lame even for Ron. Not that he would ever move a finger to stop Snape from committing suicide, mind you.

_Oh well, another try. Don't kill yourself and rather taste the seven kinds of my delicious cookies- _"Argh! This is like some bloody commercial!" Hermione swore.

Then she heard someone's footsteps and hastily hid herself in the shade of the tree.

Severus Snape was approaching her from the direction opposite to the one Hermione's bus had arrived from, holding a huge cart box.

He stopped about ten steps in front of the house, heavily laid the box on the ground and took some leaflets and postcards out of the mailbox. Then he walked to the door, performed an unlocking charm and the door swung open.

Hermione's brain was working at its full capacity. _What should I do?! Should I go to him, give him my stuff and run away? Gryffindor courage, think about the Gryffindor courage, _she kept on repeating to herself, when she stepped out of the shade.

But Severus Snape didn't notice her, because at that exact moment he lost his footing on the slippery cobblestones and fell. The box he was just in process of lifting slipped away from his hands and its contents spilled on the cobblestones.

Snape was rubbing his sore elbow while gathering books from the ground and swearing like a sailor. Hermione couldn't think of a worse timing for trying to talk him out of his suicidal intention.

A momentary impulse made her use the opportunity when his back faced the front door and his attention was directed elsewhere, and she sneaked into the house.

The house was dark and smelled of old books and clothes that hadn't met a washing machine in a too long time. She hastily lit her wand and its light enabled her to look at chaotic heaps of leather-bound manuscripts and dirty garments.

She stepped over those and opened the first door that lead out of this not quite a representative hall. She was lucky, because it was just the room where Severus Snape spent most of his waking hours – his study.

There was less clothes in there, but more books, which were scattered in unstable piles in every possible place. Some of them were used as makeshift tables for various items.

There was a desk under the window, which too was overflowing with documents. It was dominated by two cauldrons in the middle. _No one can possibly work in this mess! _Hermione was tempted to shout, but she got hold of herself and laid the cookies and the gift on the tea table which was the only thing that provided at least a small amount of empty space (if not clean). At least after she had put aside a few plates with dried up leftovers on them. She used an empty bottle with a completely unintelligible label as a vase for the branches.

She spared her efforts a critical glance. _Is this enough to save a life? _She mused skeptically. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door closing. She hid behind one conveniently high pile of books and waited.

The back-up plan, which came into being as a modified version of plan B, went like this: after she had persuaded Snape to give up his suicide (suddenly she had a vivid vision of Snape drying his eyes with a manly gesture and whispering: "So there is still someone who cares about me… I cannot leave this place of suffering and misery without finding out their identity…") she would wait for him to leave the room and flee, preferably by the window. Said window looked as though it hadn't been open for years, but hopefully a little magic could remedy that.

Unfortunately, things in life don't always follow the course of our plans.

To begin with, Snape didn't even notice that there was anything out of place on the tea table, which he personally considered the most expendable piece of furniture in the room.

His attention was instead diverted to the box he had brought with him. He put out all the books, building two new piles out of them. He somehow managed to cram two volumes into the already overstocked library, occupying the whole right wall; finally he took the last book and sat into a shabby green armchair next to the desk. He turned on a robust brass lamp and started to read. From where she was hiding Hermione couldn't see his face, but could swear she heard an occasional chuckle from him.

_Isn't it weird to buy a stash of new books the day before your planned suicide? And even weirder, some of them being obviously humorous? Maybe I've read it all wrong. But – my resolution is irreversible,_ the echo of Snape's somber voice ran through her mind. _It's so confusing…_

All the dust in the air was making her throat raspy, her muscles felt stiff and she needed to pee. _That's what you get for being too nice, _she thought bitterly.

Unfortunately, she was also slightly allergic to dust. She could feel her eyes turning red and what was worse, she suddenly felt she was about to sneeze.

_No no no not now! There must be a spell to prevent snee-_

"A-choo!"

Severus Snape threw his book on the ground, jumped out of his armchair, unmistakably reached behind the sneezing book pile and pulled out a certain nosy bushy haired witch.

"Let go of my hair! You're hurting me!" Hermione shrieked. Snape let her go and took a step back. He went back to looking as unmovable and cold as a rock.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" he hissed.

"I came to wish you merry Christmas and I also brought you something," she said, feeling like Neville Longbottom's mentally challenged twin sister. She pointed at the tea table.

Severus silently went to inspect her creations. He opened the cookie box and tasted one brownie, nodding his head (with appreciation?), unwrapped the gift, looked over the tasteful set of parchments and quills, nodding his head (with delight?) and then sent a long look to the juniper branches stuck in an absinth bottle.

"You're a fast drunk, aren't you? When I saw you last, you looked quite sober."

"But I'm not drunk!" _Unfortunately. Oh Merlin I can't even imagine what this must look like! Why did I have to bring that juniper of all things!_ Hermione decided that it was time to reveal her true intentions.

"Well, to say the truth, I wanted to stop you from… erm… you see, I saw you in the stationery shop and I heard that tomorrow you're going to… that you… please don't do it!" Hermione exclaimed and dramatically brought her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Severus Snape slightly raised his eyebrows.

"True, it is not as I'm that eager to do it, but I'm afraid it is necessary. But I think it will be difficult to manage alone… will you lend me a hand?"

"What?!" Hermione yelled, "have you lost your mind? How cynical can you get? I came here to save your life and you…" Hermione, who was throwing her arms around in her rightful indignation, managed to hit a glass cylinder with a preserved salamander.

"Do be careful," Snape scolded her after catching the cylinder in a flash, laying it on a book pile out of Hermione's reach, "and what for the love of Merlin are you talking about? What life? What saving?"

The unusual syntactic form of his questions quite unsettled her. She stuttered in confusion:

"Your life… me… wanted to save…"

This time Snape only raised one of his eyebrows; the left one. It seemed to be more inclined to wonder.

"And what, pray tell, has lead you to think that my life is in danger?"

Hermione threw up her hands in frustration.

"You, of course! The things you said in that shop! I'm begging you once more – please don't do it."

Severus let out a sigh.

"But I have to. Can't you see it?"

Hermione almost forgot to breathe.

"See what?" she whispered.

Outside, it was slightly raining. A bus passed under the window. A terribly off-pitch drunken singing of some Christmas carol was heard somewhere from the neighborhood.

Severus impatiently shook his head.

"This!" he barked and pushed a sleeve of his robes almost into her face. An unmistakable smell of long-since unwashed clothing hit her nostrils.

"I can't put it off any longer, do you see? And if that's not enough to convince you – look at them!" he ordered with his finger pointing at the corner of the room.

And there… to Hermione's horror, the things she had previously thought to be just another books were in fact black (and probably originally also green) socks standing proudly in a row like saluting soldiers.

"Don't you understand that I can't go on like this? Since the time I left Hogwarts two years ago my clothes haven't been washed. Yes, you hear that right. Not even once. Well, since there are no washing spells I am familiar with, I bought a muggle washing-machine two days ago, then a washing powder yesterday and today I finally got to buy a rope."

"You mean a clothes line," Hermione said flatly.

"Whatever," Severus waved his hand, "if you don't believe me, I'll let you see," he said and left the room without waiting for her response.

Hermione followed, completely flabbergasted.

Severus opened the bathroom door, switched the light on and threw his arms open in a theatrical motion. Hermione laid her eyes on a washing machine, washing powder, a basket of clothes pins and a rope.

"You know, that woman in the stationery shop suggested using a public laundry, but it's actually quite expensive. I've calculated that if I buy this washing machine on sale, I'd be able to save quite a lot of money. It's a workload, though; I do miss the house elves… well, that about covers it, end of the story."

Hermione wordlessly stared at him.

"Why so silent? Silence is usually the last thing one would expect from you, Miss Granger."

"I think that…can I have a drink?" she managed to stutter at last.

Severus shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't see why not. I have some gin, which would rather befit the situation at hand, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it is made from juniper. And I'm inviting you to a pre-Christmas dinner. Today's choice: chef's sausage with a mysterious sauce."

* * *

The sausages were eaten (the mysterious sauce turned out to be ketchup) and gins drunk – and they definitely didn't stop after the first two. It was still raining, the last bus just passed under the window and the horrible singing wasn't anywhere about to stop.

"_Deeeeck the hall with booooughs of holly,  
__Fa la la la la la, la la la laaaaa…"_

"What about making use of that rope?" Severus suggested.

"_Tiiiiis the seeeeason to by jolly,  
__Fa la la la la la, la la la la!"_

"Maybe the clothes pins would be enough," Hermione replied.

"Oh, how I wish I had been familiar with them while I still had you in my class," Severus mused.

Hermione frowned.

"I can't see why you keep saying these things."

"A habit of mine," he said and once again filled their glasses.

"Well – I wish to make a toast to the good old habits."

Hermione gave a significant look to the juniper branches and smiled.

"And I wish to make a toast to new experiences."

* * *

**The End**


End file.
